


fly me to the moon

by hoverbun



Category: Hotline Miami (Video Games)
Genre: Animal Death, Drabble, Dreams, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19007743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoverbun/pseuds/hoverbun
Summary: She has a dream about a rat.





	fly me to the moon

She dreams there is a rat in her kitchen.  
  
She is washing the dish she used for her lunch and drying it on the drying rack she had just bought for the apartment three days ago. When she puts it on the plastic, she catches something in the corner of her eye. It is a rat, with black fur and beady eyes and a fat little body.  
  
Rats usually don't crawl up apartment floors. She saw rats back home, far across the country, in the streets and occasionally in houses. A friend of hers from elementary school once had a rat problem. Small things that scurry in your walls and eat whatever they can find. Shit where your food is and make it go rotten. She doesn't like the look of the rat in her kitchen. It is narrow, and dark black, like a stain.  
  
There is broom by the table, from when she was sweeping. She approaches the rat, who watches her with the same understanding that she does. When she brings the broom down on its ugly little body, she will break its spine and sweep it up. If her roommate was home, maybe she'd call for him to help. But it is just the girl, and it is just this rat.  
  
She brings the broom over her head. The bristles graze the low ceiling. When she brings it down, the lurch of the dream brings her to the ground, and she doesn't know what she is swinging anymore until she is on her knees, and there is a knife, and she stabs the rat. She stabs it twice, and three times. The rat does not scream or bite or thrash, only watches as she cuts into its skin. She rips the blade through the creature's back, and inside there is blood and bones, and there are bullets, spilling on to the floor. The rat is much larger than it should be.  
  
The rat reaches into its cut body, and pulls the bullets out. Improbably sized. It's a rat, and it picks four, five bullets free for her. Madeline watches the creature pick its body apart, tearing out the bullets and giving it to her cupped hands. The blood stains her hands worse than the cut flesh does. When she looks down, she sees more blood roll down her wrists, from her elbows, from her shoulders, into her hands. Did she cut herself? No, she only cut the rat.  
  
She makes a face. She says, I don't need these. Please leave my home. The rat picks one final bullet free, its spine an ugly white in the kitchen's glow. When the girl lifts her head, the rat has grown a larger body. It is in an ugly green suit, and it has a man's shair. It still keeps its head. She can see it grind its teeth, with the wounds gaping wide in its back. She can't see them from here, but the dream tells her what the bones would look like sticking through gut meat and ripped muscle. It's disgusting. She drops what the rat has given her and curls her hands in disgust.  
  
The rat picks up the knife and looks at it. He holds it loosely in his hand, wrist hanging up. She says, please leave my home. The rat looks impressed what she did with it. She asks again, please leave my home.  
  
And she wakes, not in her grave, but her home. She wakes in a bedroom, and the bedsheets are delicate and warm. Her roommate must have put her kicked off blankets back on to her.  
  
She sits up. She scratches over her shoulder, trying to pick at where the body was cut. Not hers. Couldn't be hers. It was a fucked up dream and it made no fucking sense. But she picks, like she's looking for where the rat's body grew and split the cuts she made, and she grazes something on her shoulder. Feels like a scab, but worn.

With a frantic kick, she throws the heavy blankets off her, and looks down for blood. There is none. There is no blood in her clothes. No carved flesh across her chest or red with someone's blood. It can't be hers, because she's not bleeding.  
  
The rat. Is it dead? It came into her home. She covers her mouth with her hand, and feels her teeth begin to chatter.


End file.
